by Suzy Turner
'I don't reckon you are. You're not having chest pains, are you?'
'No,' I smiled, standing more upright. 'Nothing like that. Don't worry, I'm fine, really. It's more heartache than anything.'
'Oh,' she said sympathetically. 'I remember how that feels. You just have to wait it out, I'm afraid.'
I nodded. 'I know. It's going to be a long wait, I think. My husband has just had a baby with another woman.'
'For goodness’ sake,' she said. 'That's terrible. You poor thing, you've got a broken heart, that's what it is.' She looked down at her watch. 'Sugar,' she whispered. 'I'm going to be late. You sure you're alright?'
Raising my eyebrows, I frowned and smiled at the same time. 'I'm sure I'll be fine – eventually. Thank you.'
'Why not stop by my bar for a drink later? On me,' she said, opening her wallet and pulling out a business card before she pointed to the other side of the marina. We're open late. Come on in. We can have a good chat then; if you want to, of course.'
I smiled. 'Thank you. You're very kind. Maybe I will. I'm Eve, by the way,' I said, holding out my hand.
'Diane. Pleased to meet you, Eve. Hopefully I'll see you later?'
I nodded and she patted me on the back before rushing off.
'Here she is,' Mum said loudly, as I approached the restaurant where I'd left them. She was eating a small tuna salad while my dad tucked into a burger and chips.
He grinned as I pulled out the chair and sat down. 'I didn't think you'd be wanting any of that bird food rubbish, so I took the liberty of ordering you a burger too.' He winked.
Ordinarily I'd have preferred a salad, but I was starving and a burger was exactly what I needed. Tucking in, Mum kept giving me sideways glances and shaking her head.
'I can see you, Mum.'
'What?'
'The disapproving glances you keep giving my hair.'
'Well,' she sighed, dabbing her lips with a napkin. 'You had the most beautiful hair. I can't understand why you would just chop it all off like that. Without even a second's thought. And without talking to me first.'
'You would have only tried to talk me out of it.'
'Of course I would,' she reiterated.
I shook my head and shared a look with Dad. 'Exactly.'
'But why did you do it, love?'
I could feel Dad giving her a nudge under the table, but she ignored it. 'Give it a rest, Joyce,' he said, taking a drink from his mug of steaming tea.
'No, I won't,' she grumbled.
'Mum. It's done. I cut it. That's it. It's gone. And it'smy hair, not yours. I'm thirty-nine years old, not bloody thirteen,' I snapped, putting the rest of the burger down. My appetite had disappeared.
She looked away, ashamed; probably ashamed of me, really.
Dad smiled sympathetically and patted me on the hand.
'I understand, love. You're not the first woman to chop off all her hair after a heartbreak. It's perfectly understandable. Just ignore your mother.'
CHAPTER NINETEEN
All I remembered was dancing on the bar and then my mind was completely blank. Opening my eyes, I cringed. Where the hell was I?
Sitting up on the edge of the bed, my stomach did a somersault and I had to breathe deeply to avoid throwing up. The sound of someone breathing very close gave me palpitations, and when I turned around, I stood up so fast that I had to lean on the wall to stop myself from falling over with dizziness.
Nausea flooded my system and I rushed through the nearest door, hoping it would lead to a toilet. Luckily it was an en-suite. I closed the door and bent over the bowl, vomiting.
What had happened? Where was I? And more importantly, who the hell was that man?
Grabbing the nearest towel, I put it under my legs and then curled up on the floor, racking my brain, trying to figure out what I'd done.
Incidents flashed in my mind; the bar at the marina, pouring my heart out to Diane, her filling my glass...meeting a group of English women on a hen night and drinking with them. There was another bar then...then, I'd got chatting to a German guy. My hands shot up to my mouth and I rubbed my face. Everything was shaking, and as the memories flooded back, so did the vomit.
I heaved until there was nothing left.
A gentle tap on the door a few minutes later made me jump. 'Are you okay?' a deep voice asked.
'Y…yes. I'll be fine,' I said quietly.
'I'll make you some coffee,' he said, his footsteps disappearing out of the room.
Counting to ten I tried to stand, but my legs were so wobbly that I had to lean on the sink for a moment. I splashed my face and opened his cupboard. Taking out the toothpaste, I squeezed a little onto my finger and rubbed it over my teeth before spitting it out and gargling with some water. The simple act of bending my head back made my stomach roll over and I spat, waiting for it to start convulsing again.
Luckily it didn't, and I just stood looking at myself in the mirror for a minute. I looked like a panda, with my makeup smudged every which way. I needed a shower, to wash him off me. I didn't even know him, and I'd ended up in his bed. I felt like some cheap slut, as tears rolled down my face. Who had I become? Who was this woman staring back at me? This wasn't me. This wasn't the woman I wanted to be.
oOo
'Are you sure this is it?' he asked as I nodded.
'It's what the map says. Thanks for the lift, Dad,' I said, as we both climbed out of the car. He opened the boot and pulled out my luggage.
'Are you sure you want to do this, love? You know you can stay with us for as long as you need to?'
'I know, Dad. But I just want to be on my own for a bit. I felt really good at Sagres last week, so staying up here on the west coast is just what I need to help myself out. It's quiet too, maybe I'll be able to do a bit of writing.'
'You know your mother's quite upset that you're not going to be with us for your birthday?'
'I know, Dad. But it's my birthday, not hers, and I really need to be alone right now.'
'If you're sure, love?' he asked.
'I'm sure. Oh this must be them, now. I'll ring you,' I said, turning to look at the B&B where I'd be spending the next seven days, before waving Dad off as he drove away.
'Eve Brooke?' said a beautiful Italian woman, in her late thirties, with huge eyes.
Nodding, I held out my hand. 'You must be Flavia. Thank you for accepting the booking at such late notice.'
'Not a problem at all,' she said, as we walked through the gate. An attractive man in his mid-thirties walked towards us with a beaming grin on his face. 'Eve, a pleasure to meet you. I'm Michele! Welcome to Onda Vicentina.'
oOo
As the reviews on the internet had indicated, Onda Vicentina was the perfect B&B for pure relaxation. Not only that but the owners, Michele and Flavia, did everything possible to ensure my comfort and enjoyment during my stay. And when I did want to talk, they were eager to practise their English. It was utter heaven, and it was exactly what I needed to try and decide what I would do with my life.
Matt had sent me an email with the details of the sale of our house – it was going through in less than a week. So sudden, just like most things in my life, lately. But it meant I could do whatever I wanted to do. I just needed to decide what that would be.
During breakfast the following morning, there were a few new guests, eager to surf. Michele, a keen surfer himself, was regaling the group about the wonders of surfing at the local beaches, particularly at a beach called Monte Clerigo, where there was a good surf school. Having never tried it myself, I allowed myself to imagine what it might be like, the freedom of riding on top of the waves with the wind in my hair. Well, in the little hair I had left.
'Why don't you go too, Eve?' asked Michele.
'Oh no, I don't think I'd be much good at it.'
'No? How will you ever know unless you try?' He grinned as he went through to the area where they kept the boards and suits that they rented to keen guests.
'Well, I suppose I
won't, but I'm forty years old... in two days.' I smiled, watching as he carried some of them out for the guests to see.
'Wow,' said Flavia, smiling. 'Then you should try something new.'
'And if you wanted to try it, this would be a good board for you,' Michele offered. 'And this suit should fit you.'
'But I really have no idea what to do,' I said, getting a bit nervous.
'You can swim, though?' Flavia asked, as she started clearing the tables.
I nodded.
'Try it. You might enjoy it.' She smiled again. 'You could take a class with the school.'
'Or I can show you the basics, if you don't want to commit to a full class,' offered Stephen, one of the other guests.
Michele laughed. 'Stephen has been surfing for years. He's almost a pro surfer, you'll be in good hands.
Getting up the courage to try something new, I stood up and stretched. 'Okay, I'll give it a try. But I'll need a lift, I don't have a car.'
'We can take you,' smiled Stephen's girlfriend, Elena. 'It'll be nice to have some female company for a change.'
'Great. Give me five minutes.'
oOo
There was no doubt about it. I officially sucked at surfing. Stephen and Elena both spent hours trying to get me up on the board, but I was absolutely useless. I failed every single time. It had been fun though, but in the end I gave up and went and lay on the sand, watching as they wowed with their amazing moves. After a while, they gave up; 'on account of the small waves', they'd said. My cheeks reddened; to me they were huge!
It was a wonderful day spent in the sun, and it wasn't until we were back at Onda Vicentina and I stood in the shower when I realised I'd gone a whole day without thinking about Adam, or Matt and the baby. It was the first time in ages that I'd let myself enjoy a full day without moping. Was I finally moving on?
Why the hell would you want to move on?Asked the devil on my shoulder. She hadn't shown her face for a while, either. 'Why would Inot want to move on?' I whispered, responding to my own imagination.
Because you love him. Why don't you just go back to him?asked the devil. Because it's too raw. It's too close. He was married to Charlie, the woman who had my husband's baby. It's just too much. I can't bear it.Oh, get over yourself, she said to me again.If you love him, you should be with him.
No, I thought, stepping out of the shower. Besides, he hasn't tried to contact me. He doesn't want me.
That's what it boiled down to. Adam no longer wanted me; that much was obvious. I sat on the bed, wrapped in the towel, and picked up my phone.
'Hey, gorgeous, how are you? How's Portugal?' said the smiley voice on the other end.
'It's good, Lisa. I'm having some valuable me-time. It's just what I need.'
'Then why do you sound so down?' she asked.
I sighed. 'Because I miss him,' I admitted.
'Why don't you call him?' she asked.
'Because I'm not ready and I don't think he is, otherwise he would have called me.'
'He wants to call you, Eve, but he knows you need time on your own.'
'I know.'
'Hey,' she said. 'Don't worry, everything is going to be great. Trust me.'
I laughed. 'I hope you're right.'
'When are you coming home?' she asked.
'Soon. I'll email you.'
'You sure you're okay?' she asked, like a concerned mother.
'I will be.' I smiled. 'How are you?'
'Oh, I'm always good,' she said dismissively. 'Just enjoy yourself. Speak soon, babe.'
CHAPTER TWENTY
After breakfast, I'd taken a long leisurely walk down to the beach, watching the Atlantic Ocean pound against the cliffs. Numerous surfers were demonstrating how easy it was for those in the know. Clearly I wasn't such a person, and I smiled, eventually sitting down in the soft sand. The sun was a little too warm, so I moved to a shadier spot and just relaxed, watching families making sand castles while others kicked a football about together. They all seemed so content in this little corner of the Algarvean coast.
A toddler with shoulder-length blonde curly hair carried a ball towards me, holding it out. She grinned at me. I took the ball and she nodded. I pointed to her family and she chuckled.
'Do you want me to throw it?' I asked.
She took the ball out of my hands and tried to bounce it on the sand. It just sat there. She stood looking over it, frowning.
Suddenly, a tall man with matching curls appeared. 'Sorry,' he said, taking the little girl's hand in his. 'Come on, Eliza. Stop bothering the nice lady.'
'She's no bother,' I said as they walked away, him kicking the ball at their feet. The girl giggled every time he touched it with his foot.
I smiled and looked away. My heart ached a little bit, like it did every time a child paid me some attention. It had been over ten years since I'd found out I would never have children of my own; sometimes it seemed to be getting easier, yet at other times my heart felt like it would break in two, knowing that kids would never be a part of my life. Knowing that nobody would ever call me Mum. I would never be that person that someone relied on over anyone else in the world to raise them.
Before I realised it, I was crying. I sniffled and wiped at the tears in my eyes. Mum, Mother, Ma, Mom, Mama... I would only ever be Eve. It still hurt, but it was a pain that was slowly dissolving. I was forty years old, now; I had to accept what life had dealt me. And that meant that it would only ever be just me. I could live with that, right?
Glancing upwards when a rogue cloud blocked out the sun, I noticed a couple of restaurants and coffee bars beside the beach, so I carefully stood up and made my way over to the nearest one. Looking down at my watch, I noticed it was lunchtime already. The restaurant was getting busier but I managed to find a table overlooking the beach.
Perusing the menu, I decided on sardines. They were certainly not something I would ordinarily choose, but it was my fortieth birthday, and after I'd tried and failed at surfing, I'd decided today would be the day I would slowly start to change my life. It was the day I would start experimenting a little more, doing things I wouldn't ordinarily do.
So there I was, sitting in a restaurant tucking into a plate of sardines, drinking half a bottle of wine. Alone. But the thing was, I didn't seem to mind. For the first time in a while, I felt content.
oOo
Pushing open the door to my room, I grinned at the sight of a lovely little cake, a bottle of wine with a single wine glass and a very pretty handmade card wishing me a happy fortieth birthday. 'With very best wishes from your hosts, Michele & Flavia.'
I grinned, flopping onto the bed. The sight of a solitary wine glass didn't seem to bother me anymore, either. Even though I'd eaten a traditional little custard tart,pastel de nata, at the restaurant, it didn't stop me from tucking into the delicious cake so kindly supplied by the owners of Onda Vicentina. It was such a lovely gesture, and it had certainly helped to make my birthday a special one.
However, I was keen to share the wine with them, so I headed round to the main house, knocking on the door to see if they were still home.
'Flavia?' I asked, knocking again. 'Michele?'
'Happy birthday,' came a shout from within as Michele appeared.
'Hi, Michele. Thank you so much for the cake and wine. It was a lovely surprise,' I said, grinning.
'Happy birthday Eve,' yelled Flavia, appearing behind him, wearing a chef's apron. She came outside and hugged me, kissing me on both cheeks. 'Are you having a nice day?' she asked.
I nodded. 'Yes, it's lovely. I've been to the beach, and I've had my first ever sardines.'
'Your first?' asked Michele, frowning. 'But your parents live here, right?'
'Yes they do, but I never wanted to try them. I always thought they looked gross.'
'And?' asked Flavia. 'Do you still think so?'
I waited a moment before shaking my head. 'Delicious.'
'See,' Michele said, laughing. 'It's always good to step out of yo
ur comfort zone.'
'Actually, I agree. But surfing is definitely still a no-no.'
Michele and Flavia both laughed.
'Thank you for this,' I said, holding up the wine. 'But I'd really like to share it with you. It's not too early for you, is it?'
Michele checked his watch. 'It is a little early...'
'But it is my fortieth birthday,' I pleaded.
Flavia disappeared into the kitchen, returning with three glasses.
'But we would be delighted to drink a glass with you,' Michele finished.
After he had opened the bottle and poured us all a glass of the local wine, we stood up and clinked glasses. 'Salute,' they said loudly.
'Salute, guys, and thank you so much for being such wonderful hosts.'
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
'You look lovely, dear. It's just such a shame about your ha... well, enough of that. Our guests will be arriving soon, so come on down when you're ready,' Mum said as she closed my bedroom door.
I'd returned from the west coast to discover Mum had organised a party in my honour. To cheer me up, apparently; a belated fortieth birthday party.
Had she done it before I'd gone away, I would have probably refused to attend, but the week long break had done me a lot of good and I was ready to face the world again. Straightening my spine, I smiled at myself in the mirror as I stood up, grabbing a cardigan just in case it got chilly out by the pool later. I wore a new dress that I'd purchased from a surf shop in Vila do Bispo, on a day out with Stephen and Elena. It was covered in large yellow and pink flowers and was fitted at the waist and flared out, ending just below the knee. It was completely different from anything I'd ever owned. Matt would have hated it, but I loved it, and that thought made me smile as I turned and walked down the stairs. Dad was busy flitting from the fridge to the barbecue beside the pool, and Mum was busy entertaining the first few guests who had just arrived.
'Ah here you are, dear,' she said, pulling me towards them. 'You might remember Geoff and Helen. They bought the house next door about a year after us?' she asked.